


Want (Ammonia)

by breathtaken



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Community: criticalkink, Desperation Play, Drinking Urine, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Breathplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22851871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/breathtaken
Summary: Several stand-alone chapters that share a theme.[1] “I think you’d let me do anything I want, if it means I’m giving you attention.”[2] “This isn’t easy for you, but you’re here, and I’m gonna help you get what you want.”
Relationships: Liam O'Brien/Sam Riegel
Kudos: 29





	1. Attention

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not a linear story, but several stand-alone chapters that share a theme. (The theme being Liam's blatant piss kink.)
> 
> As usual, please don't share this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [this kink meme prompt](https://criticalkink.dreamwidth.org/3385.html?thread=1296441#cmt1296441): Liam pissing on or inside someone as a weird, sexy powerplay.

“Sam Riegel. My favorite attention-seeker. But no-one else knows just how _ much, _ do they?” 

The floor is hard beneath Sam’s knees, only a towel between him and the tiles, and Liam’s smile is sharp as he looms over him with a hand firm on his jaw, his question clearly rhetorical. 

“I think you’d let me do anything I want, if it means I’m giving you attention.”

Sam opens his mouth, then closes it again when he realizes he doesn’t actually know what the answer is; above him, Liam’s eyes dance. 

“I think you’re gonna let me piss on you.” Liam’s unbuttoning his jeans with his other hand, Sam’s heart rate already spiking until he realizes Liam is just resting it there below his waistband, pressing against his own bladder. “Where are you gonna let me do it, huh? Down your front? On your neck? On your face?” He pauses, thumb pressing into the hinge of Sam’s jaw. “In your mouth?”

Sam laughs – but it dies in his throat as he realizes that Liam _ really _ doesn’t look like he’s kidding.

“Sounds gross,” he says instead, trying for joking, but he knows Liam won’t miss the nerves in his voice.

“That’s cause it _ is._” Liam replies, his tone dangerous. “I don’t care if you like it – no, actually, I don’t _ want _ you to like it. I want you to take it for me anyway, just because I want you to.”

A flick of Sam’s eyes confirms he’s hard – and when he sees him looking Liam slides his hand down and cups himself through his open fly, eyelids fluttering as he lets out a hiss of breath, and before he can think himself out of it Sam blurts out, “Yes.”

Liam’s eyes snap open, and his smile is feline.

“I want to come in your mouth.” He enunciates the words, his hand sliding down to thumb Sam’s lower lip. “Then I want to piss in your mouth, and then I want you to swallow it.” His voice drops, low and intimate. “Will you do that for me?”

“Sure?” Sam replies, and immediately winces.

Liam laughs. “‘_Sure’, _he says.” There’s just a hint of mockery in his words. “I was right about you. Of course. There’s really nothing you won’t do, is there?” He squeezes Sam’s jaw again, then boops his nose; Sam doesn’t move a muscle, though he can feel the heat in his face giving him away, the strain in his neck as he looks up. “Don’t move.”

Liam steps away, and Sam drops his head a little, staring mindlessly at the skirting board where the side of the bath meets the tiles as behind him he hears water running.

It’s Liam’s – third glass of water? Fourth? Sam should really remember. But ever since Liam first brought this up he’s been a little bit spacey, like the whole thing isn’t quite real.

Like he’s not gonna –

He flinches as a hot stream of liquid hits the back of his neck.

He really thinks for a split second that Liam’s done it – has _ pissed on him _– until he realizes he can’t actually smell it, and Liam’s chuckle as his hand wraps around the wet nape of Sam’s neck, thumb stroking along his hairline, is confirmation. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist,” he says, not sounding sorry at all as he crouches down beside him. 

“Fucker,” Sam says without heat, feeling a little stupid and a little ashamed and a lot relieved, and unable to pretend that he wouldn’t have done exactly the same in Liam’s place. 

“The mortifying ordeal of being known,” Liam quips, pulling Sam into a firm, tender kiss. “Don’t worry. When I do it for real, you’re gonna know.”

“Oh goody,” Sam says sarcastically, but he’s still just a little breathless, more than a little wound up, and as Liam gets to his feet his crotch is _ very _ close to Sam’s face. 

“Shh. I don’t need you to talk,” Liam murmurs, and that’s all it takes for the air in the room to turn hot and heavy; when he presses gentle fingers against Sam’s eyelids, they fall closed just like that. 

Then the same two fingers press against his lips, and he opens up.

He sucks Liam’s fingers into his mouth, giving them all the care and attention he would his cock, or anything else Liam might see fit to grace him with, licking the pads of his fingers and glowing when he hums in satisfaction. It’s easy not to think like this, with the steady ache in his knees and his hands resting obediently on his thighs, and Liam’s other hand firm on the back of his neck, keeping him in place.

When Liam pulls his fingers away his other hand moves around to Sam’s throat, and Sam only realizes he’s chasing them when he presses into Liam’s palm and stops short, throat clicking.

“Look who’s eager.” Sam’s ears strain to make out the rustling of fabric underneath Liam’s words. “I thought you could manage ten seconds without me stopping your mouth, but I guess not.”

Without warning, Liam moves his hand up and shoves three fingers inside right to the knuckles, pressing down against Sam’s tongue when he gags, his eyes snapping open. His grip is firm on Sam’s chin and there’s nothing he can do but take it, trying to relax his throat as tears come to his eyes. “Shh. Don’t fight it,” Liam murmurs, and Sam watches as he pulls his cock out with his other hand, already fully hard and glistening at the tip. 

“_Mmph,_” Sam says, in objection or agreement, fingers digging into his thighs as he swallows against the tips of Liam’s fingers.

When Liam replaces his fingers with his cock, it’s such a relief that Sam sucks him in too deep and immediately makes himself gag again, Liam’s hand back on his throat a second later, pushing him gently back. “Easy, tiger.” Fingers and thumb dig in on the sides of his neck as Liam rocks his hips, back and forward, sliding out and in. “I’m driving this thing. You just take what you’re given.” 

So Sam makes an O of his lips, hollows his cheeks and lets his eyes fall shut once more as he swirls his tongue, and this time when Liam’s cock nudges the back of his throat and doesn’t let up, he swallows it down without a hitch.

He faintly hears the clinking of glass on tile, and flinches when a few drops of cold water splash on his head, but the warmth of Liam’s cock and the weight of the hand on his throat are far more immediate, and Liam’s groaning his appreciation like he wants the whole neighborhood to know it, until Sam’s hard as well just from hearing him.

“_Oh. _ God, I need to piss _ so bad,_” Liam mock-whispers, his voice dark with arousal. “I started drinking before you got here ‘cause I knew you’d say yes. You’re always a slut for my attention. Or would you let anyone piss all over you?”

“_Mm-mm,_” Sam protests, and Liam’s thumb strokes down the line of his neck. 

“Good. I like feeling special,” he replies, sexy and tender all at once. “_Oh, _ fuck. You know, if I let go, I’m not sure what’s gonna come out first.”

Somehow he’d almost managed to forget what’s coming – but now the realization hits Sam full force, his face heating and pulse thumping under the hand on his throat as he keeps his eyes screwed shut and scrabbles at Liam’s hips until he finds his other hand, grabbing onto it a little too tightly. 

“Yeah,” Liam says, the words little more than a breath as he entwines their fingers, squeezing Sam’s hand until he settles just a fraction. “Still can’t believe how easy you are. I could do _ anything _ to you and you’d let me. Yeah, keep doing that with your tongue. ‘Sure, Liam, you can piss in my mouth.’ Look at me.”

Sam blinks his eyes open, and looks up: Liam’s eyes are dark and hot and he’s looking at Sam like he wants to devour him, and he squeezes his hand even tighter as he says, “Gonna come. Open your mouth.”

As Sam lets his jaw drop, Liam moves his hand from Sam’s throat to his own cock and jerks it once, twice, three times, biting his lip and grunting as a warm splash hits Sam’s tongue, familiar and musky, Liam’s eyes never leaving his, and his other hand still holding Sam’s.

“Keep it open,” he says, so softly, resting the head of his cock against Sam’s lower lip, hitching a breath and then cracking a little smile when Sam gives it a kitten lick. “Yeah, just like that. Wanna see you take it for me.”

There’s no movement, no sound but the roaring of Sam’s own pulse in his ears, with even the ache in his knees faded into the background, nothing in this moment but Liam’s eyes on his and Liam’s hand in his and the head of Liam’s cock resting heavy on his tongue, as Liam lets out a shuddering breath and starts to flood Sam’s mouth.

It’s warm. It’s acidic, it tastes – kinda like when you throw up and it’s just water, and as it mixes with the spunk still on Sam’s tongue that is _ not _ good at all, and he gags a little as it hits the back of his throat but Liam is looking at him with something like reverence, and so he grimaces and swallows just a little, never looking away.

Then the _ smell _ hits him – and okay, _ no, _ he _ cannot _ do this, and Liam’s _ still pissing _ –

Sam gives him a pleading look and pulls back just far enough that Liam’s cock slips off his lips, and lets the rest of it dribble out of his mouth and down his chin, soaking into the collar of his shirt as the last few dribbles from Liam’s cock splash into the hollow of his throat.

As Sam stares at him, helpless, Liam squats down before him and kisses him hard on the lips.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he says in a rush, still staring at Sam like he can’t quite believe he’s real, a sentiment Sam shares right now. “I’ll get you some water.”

Liam immediately goes into full fuss mode, and Sam lets him, until he’s washed his mouth out several times, scrubbed his face, brushed his teeth _ very _ thoroughly and stripped naked, though the acrid smell of it still lingers in his nostrils in a way that makes him a little twitchy with shame although this isn’t even his kink. 

He doesn’t know if Liam can see it, but as he turns the shower on and then pulls Sam close under the blissfully hot water, still looking at him like he hung the moon, Sam buries his face in Liam’s neck and takes an unsteady breath that he knows gives him away.

Liam’s arms wrap around his waist, squeezing gently. “You okay?”

“Yeah?” It comes out like a question. “I’m okay. It was – just a lot.” It’s weird how _ tired _ he feels all of a sudden, when all he really did was give a blow job. “I – don’t think I can do that again. It was too gross,” he confesses, making himself pull back and meet Liam’s eyes, and something in his chest unclenches when Liam doesn’t look disappointed at all, just smiles like he already knew as much.

“Thank you for trying it at all. That was _ amazing,_” he says, so earnestly, and Sam has the urge to reach up and touch the crinkles at the corner of his eyes. “Like, top five hottest things you’ve ever done for me.”

“Oh yeah? What are the other four?” Sam asks, feeling himself settling back into the rhythm of their back-and-forth as he leans in for a (thankfully clean) kiss, a little voice in the back of his head wondering whether if it makes Liam look at him like that, there really _ is _ anything he wouldn’t do. 


	2. Present

“Hands behind your back for me?”

Liam is facing away from him, silhouetted against the window as he crosses his wrists in the small of his back; Sam picks up the leather cuffs from the nightstand beside him, wraps them around Liam’s wrists and buckles them in place.

“Okay,” he says, “Turn around.”

As Liam turns, he’s standing to attention, Sam realizes, his stance wide, shoulders back and head held high, the unnatural position of his wrists only adding to the effect. There’s a tightness in his expression, like he’s anticipating a struggle; in response, Sam puts on his best California smile.

He reaches out and undoes Liam’s jeans, pushing them down to his ankles, and then straightens up and pats his own thighs with one hand, like he’s encouraging a cat into his lap. “Up you get.”

He holds Liam by the hips, steadying him as he gets onto his knees on the edge of the bed, sitting across Sam’s lap, movements jerky and uncertain without the use of his hands. He winces at the faint crackling of the mattress protector beneath several layers of towels.

“How’re you doing?” Sam asks, hands smoothing along Liam’s thighs; when he hesitates, Sam adds, “One word.”

Liam grimaces, as though this wasn’t his idea in the first place, before admitting, “Apprehensive.”

“‘Course. But it’s all good. All you need to do is stay here and look pretty.” Liam’s cheek is already stubbly under Sam’s hand even though he shaved this morning, and he’s still holding himself stiffly. “Stretch your legs out if you need to. Wanna make out for a bit?”

Liam gives him a cautious smile. “Yeah.”

They kiss for a long while, gentle and unhurried, and honestly, Sam thinks he’d be okay with pretty much anything Liam asked of him if it means moments like this, just kisses upon kisses and one hand on Liam’s jaw, the other in the small of his back beneath his T-shirt, between bare skin and the weight of Liam’s own bound hands.

There’s never enough time, they’ve each given up at least three other things to be here today, and Sam regrets none of them.

“Little bit better?” he asks at length, and Liam nods.

“Yeah.” He hesitates. “Thank you.”

Sam doesn’t really feel he should be thanked, but if Liam feels the need to thank him then he supposes that’s more important. “You’re welcome.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Liam, his eyes careful on Sam’s as if he’s waiting to see what he’ll do. It’s interesting, trying to read Liam’s mood just from his expression, and as the seconds stretch out he’s reminded of Marina Abramović’s performance _The Artist is Present, _of all the people who stood in line for hours just to sit opposite her and look into her eyes, and how many of them started to cry; and wonders if if he and Liam did the same, which of them would lose it first.

Half a minute later, Liam doesn’t cry, but he does chuckle self-consciously, breaking the tension. “This is weird,” he says, and Sam smiles and presses two fingers against his lips.

“Shh. No talking unless you need to.” There’s a phrase he half-remembers from when things were bad; after a moment’s thought he has it. “Just sit with it.”

Liam’s expression does something complicated that says he gets the reference, and he keeps his mouth closed, and his gaze on Sam’s.

He thinks tantra might be kinda the same thing: staring into your lover’s eyes for half an hour while you jerk them off really slowly. He’d laughed, but looking at Liam now, he wonders if there might just be something to it.

When Liam shifts on his lap, Sam thinks it’s his knee until he realizes the tips of his ears are flushing.

He puts his hand just below the waistband of Liam’s boxer briefs, and asks, “Can I?”

“Yeah.” As soon as he puts pressure, Liam lets out a hiss and says hurriedly. “No. Sorry.”

Sam immediately removes his hand. “It’s okay.” He rubs Liam’s side, beneath his shirt. “How bad? On a scale of one to five?”

“…three.”

“Okay. Is there anything you need?”

“Talk to me?”

Sam grins, as if he has no clue what Liam’s driving at. “What about?”

Liam lets out a put-upon sigh, but it’s clear he knows he hasn’t won. “Something reassuring,” he says dryly, inviting Sam to join him in amusement at his own need.

It’s against the spirit of the rules if not the letter, but Sam doesn’t take the bait, just rests both hands on Liam’s waist. “Sure. I think you’re doing great.” He kisses him again for emphasis. “This isn’t easy for you, but you’re here, and I’m gonna help you get what you want.” Liam makes a face like he wants to object, but when Sam gives him a knowing look, he keeps his mouth closed. “Come here.”

Sam wraps his arms around him and pulls him forward, holding his head against his shoulder. “There you go,” he murmurs, stroking his hair and feeling a little of the tension leave his body. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Liam huffs, meaning _ easier said than done, _but Sam doesn’t think he needs to point out that no-one expected this to be easy.

“Tell me when you’re ready for another drink.”

Liam tenses again, but says nothing.

Sam turns his head and presses a kiss to his temple, and waits him out.

Liam’s taking deliberate deep, slow breaths, and Sam rubs gentle circles across his back until at last he says, “Ready.”

As Sam reaches for the pitcher on the nightstand and pours a glass of water, he watches Liam’s eyes tracking his movements; though he’s not planning to make him drink the entire thing, he decides it doesn’t exactly hurt the scene.

They’re starting to get there, but they’ve still got some way to go; and so he pauses with the glass held between their bodies and says, “Would you like me to help you?”

He can see Liam visibly struggle with the urge to make a sarcastic comment before he sets his jaw and replies, “Yes. Please.”

“Sure. Open up,” Sam replies sunnily, and lifts the glass to Liam’s lips.

He thinks he’s starting to get this.

It’s a rush, both in taking control and in watching Liam gradually, reluctantly cede it to him, his dark eyes near-unblinking as Sam takes his sweet time feeding him the whole glass of water without letting up, brushing away a stray drop that’s rolling down his chin.

When he puts his hand over Liam’s bladder he stiffens again; but Sam just tucks it into the waistband of his boxers and leaves it there, against the warm skin.

He asks, “How bad?”

“Uh. Four.”

He glances down, below his hand. “Is it turning you on?”

Liam swallows. “Yeah.”

“Want me to touch you?”

“_Yeah. _ Please.”

“Not yet.” At Liam’s clear frustration, Sam only smiles wider; he’s still got enough composure to be frustrated, then. “Tell me when you think you can’t hold it any longer. Then I’ll touch you.”

Liam glares at him, but there’s a hint of wildness to it that tells Sam he’s starting to get there.

Sam keeps his hand over Liam’s bladder as he kisses him again, and perfects the art of pressing just enough to make him squirm, but not so much that he tells him no; Liam can probably feel his own dick reacting to the way he’s shifting about on it, which he hopes helps.

This isn’t getting Sam _ hot, _exactly, but it’s fair to say that he very much wants to be here.

When he pulls away and reaches over to pour another glass of water, Liam’s eyes widen.

“_Sam,_” he says, like a warning; and Sam looks him up and down and asks, “Do you want to stop?”

Liam ducks his head. “No,” he admits, and Sam lifts his chin again to kiss him before bringing the glass to his lips again and tilting it, giving him no choice but to drink.

Once he’s swallowed the last few drops Liam all but slumps against Sam, pressing his face against his neck. He’s deep breathing again, and Sam puts one hand in his where it’s bound behind his back and strokes his hair with the other, feeling him squirm, waiting him out until he finally lets out a long breath through his nose and then says, in a voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t think I can hold it.”

“Alright. Sit up a bit,” Sam replies, pushing his right hand down between their bodies and inside Liam’s boxers to cup his half-hard cock and balls, flush with a feeling he can’t name as Liam makes a small cut-off sound in his throat and leans in again, resting his forehead against Sam’s.

Sam moves his hand far too slowly, the barest pressure on Liam’s cock; and this time the noise Liam makes when he realizes what he’s getting is more desperation than frustration. “More, _ please,_” he gasps, in open need at last, and Sam kisses him on the nose and replies, “You know what to do if you want more.”

“_Can’t_–” Liam protests – and Sam stills his hand and asks, “Do you want to stop?”

When no answer comes, he pushes. “Yes or no, Liam?”

Liam squeezes his eyes shut; Sam counts one, two, three, and when he opens them again they’re glassy.

“No,” he whispers finally, and Sam squeezes his cock the way he knows he wants, and kisses the tears from the corners of his eyes as he moans; and Liam surges forward, kissing him like he’s drowning and Sam is air, gasping into his mouth as suddenly warm wetness floods over Sam’s hand and spills, down through the fabric of Liam’s boxers and his boxers and over his own cock, the sharp scent of ammonia filling the air a moment later.

Sam holds his cock through it as Liam gasps into his mouth and lets himself go, ending on a harsh rush of breath that sounds almost like a sob.

“Would you like to come?” Sam asks, and Liam lets out another jagged breath and replies, “_Yes. _Please.”

Sam’s been slow and deliberate all afternoon but now he’s decisive, pushing the soaked fabric of Liam’s boxers down and stripping his rapidly hardening cock with his wet hand, a little faster and a little rougher than he normally likes it, until Liam is whining against his lips and Sam says, just to see what will happen, “Can you come for me?”

Almost instantly Liam lets out a strangled moan, and Sam looks down just in time to see him coming messily all over his hand and both their soaked boxers.

A moment later Liam collapses against him with a shudder.

“There you go,” Sam murmurs, reaching up and stroking Liam’s hair again with his clean hand. “Love you. Love you so much. Would you like to suck my dick?”

“Yeah. Please,” Liam mumbles against his shoulder, sounding as gone as Sam’s ever heard him; and Sam pulls him gently back by the hair and steadies him again as he stumbles to his feet, before scooting forward to the edge of the bed and pushing his boxers down and off as Liam falls to his knees.

He reaches for the back of Liam’s neck again, guiding him forward as he angles his still mostly-soft cock towards his mouth; and he would _ not _ want their positions to be reversed right now but Liam’s expression is peaceful as he cleans Sam’s cock thoroughly with gentle swipes of his tongue, before letting himself be pulled onto it right to the root.

“Stay still until I tell you,” Sam murmurs, his clean hand carding through Liam’s hair as he sticks the dirty one straight into the half-full pitcher and waves it around, before drying it off on the towel edge. He’s no expert at this but he understands that Liam needs to feel used right now, needs to give in return, and the truth is that Sam is really starting to enjoy the taking.

He holds Liam in place as his cock slowly swells in his warm wet mouth, stroking the short hair at the nape of his neck to keep him grounded; when Liam gags he loosens his grip and says, “Okay, you can suck me,” not removing his hand but letting Liam set the pace as he starts to move, giving Sam exactly the kind of blow job he likes, wet and steady with a little suction and lots of tongue.

Liam knows him well, and it doesn’t take too long before he’s close; as his breaths become pants Liam hums along his cock before taking him down as far as he can, Sam’s fingers tightening in his hair as he comes against the back of his throat a moment later, groaning as Liam swallows and doesn’t stop, licking him clean all over again until it becomes too much, and Sam pulls him off his cock and leans forward for a kiss.

For a few moments they just look at each other, utterly present, slowly breaking into smiles.

“Okay. Shower,” Sam says first, already reaching behind Liam’s back and squeezing his fingers before undoing the cuffs and pulling them off, rubbing Liam’s arms as he reaches for his wet boxers and then hesitates. “Leave those.”

“Okay,” Liam agrees immediately, pulling them down and leaving them on the towel on the floor, stripping off his T-shirt for good measure before going through to the bathroom.

Sam bundles everything up in one pile and checks the bottom sheet before following, opening the shower door and joining Liam under the water, pulling him close. “You can talk again now,” he says, and Liam sort of laughs.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he quips, meeting Sam’s eyes for a moment; and Sam kisses his temple when he looks away and says, “No rush. I suggest an obscenely long shower, then put the laundry on and open a bottle. Then do notes. Sound good?”

“Opening a bottle does.” 

There’s so much Sam could say, but they’re in no rush; so he simply says, “Love you. Now let me touch you up some more,” and reaches for the shower gel.


End file.
